ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, May 9, 1990                   TAG: 9005090134
SECTION: SPORTS                    PAGE: C-1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: MICHAEL WILBON WASHINGTON POST NEWS SERVICE
DATELINE: WASHINGTON                                LENGTH: Medium


IT'S NOT IF YOU WIN OR LOSE, NUT IF YOU BEAT THE SPREAD

The date is Dec. 30, 1990. The place is RFK Stadium.

With a victory, the Washington Redskins can win the NFC East and clinch home-field advantage throughout the NFL playoffs by holding on to beat Buffalo. The Redskins are leading 17-14 with 30 seconds remaining and quarterback Mark Rypien is about to kneel on the ball just inside the Bills' 30-yard line for the third and final time to run out the clock.

Redskins fans are booing. Very loudly.

They want the Redskins to try a field goal, which - if good - would make the final margin 20-14 and allow the team to cover the four-point spread. Coach Joe Gibbs, as he runs off the field, says to the District of Columbia policeman assigned to protect him: "Stay close Captain, we didn't cover today. They're not happy."

Don't laugh. Something like this could happen if the District of Columbia's lottery board is allowed to institute the Sports Pool Lottery to which it gave preliminary approval last week.

It's hard to imagine a more irresponsible idea.

The District of Columbia lottery board has one argument: It would make money for the financially troubled District. District of Columbia officials haven't given an estimate of how much money the city would make off such sports betting, but if Oregon's sports lottery drew an average of $375,000 per week during pro football season (with no local team), the guess here is that the million-dollar mark would be passed in the District of Columbia before lunchtime Wednesday each week during the NFL season.

So, it's no longer whether you win or lose, or even how you play the game, as long as you beat the point spread.

This is not to suggest that local governments shouldn't look for creative ways to make money, especially since agents, sports marketing firms, media outlets and others make money off professional sports. But it's not like the District is getting shut out. Mayor Marion Barry, sitting in his office Monday, estimated that the city realizes approximately $4.5 million a year from Redskins home games, including preseason games. So, enough already.

At stake is the very foundation of the game. The only difference between pro wrestling and the major pro team sports is that people perceive football, baseball, basketball and hockey to be real, to be above being tampered with by athletes who are under the influence of gamblers.

When Earnest Byner fumbles at the goal line in the AFC championship game, or when Ronnie Harmon drops a touchdown pass in an AFC playoff game, the goat is treated rudely enough. Imagine the reaction of fans, who may see as much as $4,000 fly from their hands as a result of a play. Will they suspect the game is tainted?

"It's not the fix, it's the perception of the fix," said Gary Bettman, general counsel for the NBA. "No one is as scorned as a losing bettor.

"If somebody misses a free throw or a coach makes a substitution decision or somebody doesn't get a rebound, there will then be unwarranted criticism: `Did you see him throw that ball away? He must be on the take. This game must be fixed,' even when it's not. It is the suspicion and the cloud that our players and our game will be put under that we don't want any part of."

That's why the NBA is suing Oregon, and that is why the NFL probably will sue the District of Columbia if the corporation counsel and the lottery board (after a 30-day period for public comment) approve the SPL. If the NFL believes it has the right to control the presentation of its product, it almost has to file suit.

The NFL already has lost such a suit, in the mid-1970s against the state of Delaware. The lesson to be learned from that venture, however, is that the state dropped the idea when it didn't make anywhere near the amount of money projected. In Oregon, except for 24 weeks of NFL action (preseason, regular season and playoffs), revenue has been falling far short of even the lowest projections, according to sources familiar with the operation.



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